


Coming to his senses

by demented_queen



Series: Older Daryl/Younger Grad Student Rick [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Creepy apartment building, Dark Character, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Older Assertive Stalker Daryl, Rough Sex, Young Grad Student Rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demented_queen/pseuds/demented_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh faced 22 year old grad student Rick Grimes moves into a creepy apartment building.  His new neighbor is a much older, much more persuasive man by the name of Daryl Dixon, who is not subtle in his intentions.</p><p>There are 5 chapters total, each dealing with one of the 5 senses.</p><p>POVs will change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sight

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched old episodes of 'This Life,' and I gotta tell you, 22 year old Andy Lincoln is just too fucking adorable.
> 
> I had to write this.
> 
> Also, everything is done (well not everything, but close enough). I'm exhausted and I want to ease myself back into the fandom right now. This kept bugging me. I will go back to my regularly scheduled fics as soon as I can stop wanting to pass out. ;P

 

 

  
Had the apartment building he was currently moving into, Rick mused, been the focus of a movie, the film would no doubt be one of those horror movies out of the seventies and eighties, complete with eerie music, with its discordant keystrokes and other jarring melodies.  
  
The building was a tall, imposing structure that lacked _any_ character whatsoever.  It was meant to house as many people in as many small units as possible.  The hallways were narrow and the lighting above was sporadic.  Either it was much too bright, the fluorescents sometimes glaring in your eyes as you walked down the hallway, or dim and blinking, the lights seldom having been replaced.  
  
The smell of the carpeting was dreadful.  It was as if a million cats had come and gone, their odoriferous evidence casually left behind.  
  
At least Rick had _hoped_ the smell was from the feline sort.  
  
And what creepy horror movie would be complete without an equally creepy landlord.  A greasy, unkempt, slovenly fellow, who would darken one’s doorstep once a month requesting the rent.  
  
He wasn’t sure if Philip Blake quite qualified as unkempt and greasy, nor slovenly for that manner, but the man did have the creep factor in spades.  
  
In as much as the building, and his apartment unit, were undesirable to Rick, the fact of the matter was that this was all he simply could afford, so he would have to make the best of it.    
  
Being a poor grad student, and as cliche as that sounded, was still that, a poor grad student.  
  
Poor, as in no money except for the small amount he had been afforded, which went to cover food, clothing and shelter for the next two years.  
  
The building had been recommended to him by another grad student, who had said, ‘yeah, it looks pretty shitty’ to which Rick had replied, ‘but it’s great on the inside, right?’ to which the other student had shaken his head.  ‘Nope.  It’s shitty on the inside too but it beats a cardboard box in a dirty alleyway.’  
  
And it did.  
  
But just barely.  
  
“You the new guy?” a deep, rumbling voice asked behind Rick.  
  
“Um, yeah,” Rick said as he turned around to greet his new neighbor.  
  
At least, he suspected it was his new neighbor, as the man had his keys out and was about to open his own door, the one right next to Rick’s.  
  
But any real coherent thought went out the window when he was met by the most piercing pair of blue eyes.  
  
And they seemed to be narrowing in on him.  
  
The man had not grinned in a pleasant manner or anything, just stared right at him, as if studying him.  
  
“Name’s Daryl,” the man said as he stuck out his hand.  
  
“Rick,” Rick said as he moved the box from one hand to the other in order to shake the man’s hand, Daryl’s eyes never leaving his face.  
  
“Why you rentin’ a shitty dump like this?” Daryl asked, his head tilted to the side, still studying Rick intently.  
  
“Um, all the penthouse apartments on the east side were taken,” Rick shrugged then laughed.  
  
Daryl continued to peer at Rick, a small smirk appearing at the flippant remark.  “College boy, right?”  
  
“Yeah.  Rah!  Rah!” Rick winced as the joke fell flat.  “Um…grad student.”  
  
“How old 're you?” Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes even further on Rick.  
  
“Twenty two,” Rick said as he swallowed.  Daryl kept focusing his attention on him the whole time, his eyes never leaving his face.  “And you?”  
  
Rick could have kicked himself for that.  
  
“Be forty in ‘nother week,” Daryl shrugged, his steps bringing him further into Rick’s space.  
  
“Oh, I never would’ve known,” Rick said.  “Happy early birthday!”  
  
Rick noted the man looked good for his age, despite the heavy lines marring the man’s otherwise pleasant face.  
  
It was then that Rick noticed how he was now fully plastered against his door, Daryl leaning in so far that Rick had no where further to go until he opened his door.  Daryl extended one arm out and leaned in further, his hand resting right next to Rick’s head.  
  
And then Daryl smiled at Rick.  
  
It wasn’t the kind of smile that radiated sunshine and rainbows and blue birds singing, but something much more sinister and perverse.    
  
And very lustful.

It positively _screamed_ lustful.  
  
But it was a smile nonetheless.  
  
“Maybe you can help me blow out the candles on my cake,” Daryl leered.  “Well, I’ll be seein’ ya,” Daryl said as he pushed himself back and out of Rick’s space.  
  
Rick watched as the man walked over to his door and opened it, Rick quickly making his way into his own unit.  
  
He could still feel his new neighbor’s eyes as they had burned into him, forever marking his flesh in some way he could not quite explain, yet left him shivering nonetheless.  
  



	2. Smell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, it was funny. I had a much better title for this. About a week ago, that is and then it was completely forgotten. So I came up with "Coming to his senses," when I posted the first chapter, but the old title really bothered me because I couldn't remember it.
> 
> Then last night my daughter Rowan asked me if I wanted to watch a movie and I was thinking of one of the ones I like to watch at night when I want to wind down and go to bed. So I started naming off my Jane Austen movies, "Pride & Prejudice," "Sense and Sensibility"... and then I was like, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" 
> 
> Rowan just looked at me as said, "or we could just go to bed..."

 

Daryl's POV

 

 

  
  
  
He could hear the footsteps through the ridiculously thin walls again.  
  
Daryl knew the exact number of steps it would take for his new neighbor, _Rick Grimes_ , to get from his front door, through his small living room and into his small bedroom where he would undress, then into his small bathroom to turn on the shower so it could warm up.  
  
He counted the number carefully, not that he really needed to.  Rick’s floor plan was the exact same as his, only in reverse so he could tell where Rick was at any given time by the noises the floorboards made.  But he liked counting them anyway.  It gave his new neighbor a bit of predictability.  
  
And then there it was, the sound he was waiting for.  
  
The sound of the water running, the way the pipes in their part of their building would make that rattling noise and the walls would thrum ever so gently with the force of the water as it moved through the intricate plumbing network, Daryl's one hand against the wall, the slight vibrations making his extremities tingle.  
  
He could hear the spray as it hit the shower enclosure wall and then the steps for Rick to walk into said stall before the way the water would change frequency.  
  
Daryl listened excitedly for the moment when the water stopped its heavy staccato against the wall, the sound a hollow pinging that annoyed him to no end.  
  
Then the sound changed and he knew it was then that the water was hitting skin.  
  
 _His_ skin.  
  
Daryl leaned back against the bed and listened to the water as it flowed, imagining how it was cascading down the surface of Rick’s body, how it was beating a new rhythm on the planes of his flesh.  
  
How Rick was lathering the soap and scrubbing every inch of himself before coming to his hair, massaging the, no doubt, same soap (he was a poor grad student after all - soap would have to do double duty) into that wonderful unruly mop of curly hair.  
  
He imagined the way his neighbor would look leaning back as he rinsed the suds out of his hair before leaning forward to get the rest of the soap off his body.  
  
Daryl listened until he heard the distinct sound of the shower as it ended.  
  
Rick having finished his shower, Daryl now sprung into action.  
  
Bouncing from his perch on his bed, Daryl sprinted across his own unit and out the door, banging loudly on Rick’s own door.  
  
“Rick?” Daryl shouted.  
  
Not too loud to scare him, or to make him think he was mad at him for some reason, but loud enough so Rick could hear him from the bathroom.  
  
Daryl heard the footsteps as they made their way to the front door before it was hauled open.  
  
“Daryl?” Rick asked, panting from the exertion of having run to the door, wearing only a towel around his lower half.  
  
The towel was wrapped firmly around his hips, but it still afforded Daryl the view of his lovely neighbor’s hipbones, and that treasure trail that waited within.  The top half showed him a Rick that had been interrupted mid-drying cycle, as his flesh was still red and moist, from the shower.  
  
Just as Daryl had planned.  
  
Had Rick had time to dry off completely, it would have spoiled all his fun.  
  
“Baking a cake,” Daryl muttered while he kept his eyes trained on Rick.  “Need some sugar.”  
  
“Oh,” Rick stuttered.  “Um, wow,” he snickered.  “I only thought they borrowed cups of sugar in old television series.”  
  
Daryl loved the way Rick always seemed to be more flippant the more nervous he got.  
  
Like now.  
  
Daryl leaned in closer into the unit, one arm draped above the door jamb.  
  
He could just step inside.  
  
Rick wouldn’t do anything.  
  
“I don’t really cook.  So I don’t,” Rick stammered.  
  
“Got salt?  Milk?  Baking powder?” Daryl scoffed.  
  
“Ingredients!  No!” Rick laughed nervously.  “Remember?  Grad student?  I got hot pockets and top ramen.  Think the only ingredient I got is ketchup.”  
  
“Ketchup’s a condiment,” Daryl muttered, leaning in closer before stepping over the threshold, Rick backing up into his unit.  
  
“Ain’t even got milk,” Rick shrugged, Daryl noticing the towel slipping just the tiniest fraction.  
  
He would have loved nothing more than to slam the door behind him, grab the towel and yank it off Mr. Rick Grimes, grad student, then push him over the ratty couch and fuck him senseless.  
  
But everything in good time.  
  
He had another reason for being there at the moment.  
  
“Sorry,” Rick said before hitching his towel up further.  
  
“’S okay,” Daryl shrugged.  “I’ll jus’ go to the store.”  
  
And as quick as Daryl could, he leaned in and brought himself to the crook of Rick’s neck, the juncture between that lovely carved collarbone and his neck and inhaled.  
  
The aroma was exhilarating!  
  
Not only could he smell the soap Rick used (which had been his mission all along) but the heady scent of his flesh, the way it was so clean, so crisp.  
  
 _So raw._  
  
He could feel the way the warmth from his reddened, moist skin reached his nostrils.  
  
If he could just _touch_ him, he knew he could feast on a countless number of fantasies on just the borrowed heat from his skin alone.  
  
But this would have to do for now, Daryl mused, as he withdrew from his neighbor’s personal space.  
  
“Did you…did you just… _smell_ me?!” Rick exclaimed.  
  
“Irish Spring, right?” Daryl asked, “the soap you use.  Probably use it in your hair too.”  
  
“Um, yeah,” Rick nodded, a small look of relief on his face, now knowing there was nothing nefarious in the way Daryl had taken a whiff of him just now.  
  
If only Rick knew how wrong he was.  
  
“Gotta go,” Daryl rumbled as he took one long, last look at Rick, the towel now being held more securely at his waist, only further accentuating that firm rear end.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick nodded as he closed the door slowly, his wary eyes on Daryl the whole time.  
  
Daryl turned around and made his way to the elevator.  
  
He really did have to go to the store.  
  
But he wasn’t going to shop for ingredients for baking some damn cake.  
  
He was going to buy soap.  
  
Many, many bottles of Irish Spring to be exact.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it seems like Daryl was relying on all the senses there, but he was focused on just one at the moment.
> 
> I love comments.
> 
> Makes me write faster (and I think last night was the last of the graduation parties and bonfires, etc.)


	3. Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought, okay, I'm definitely going to hell for this chapter.
> 
> Then I realized, no, it'll be chapter 5 I'll be going to hell for. 
> 
> Right now, this is just me sitting in the waiting room in Purgatory.

 

  
  
Rick locked eyes with his neighbor some time around midnight, after having come up from the service elevator, his arms laden with his basket which was fully loaded with his freshly washed and folded laundry.    
  
Daryl had a young man in tow.  
  
“Rick,” Daryl nodded in a way of greeting.  
  
“Daryl,” Rick replied.  
  
He looked at the young man.    
  
He was wearing standard club wear; a wife-beater, tight jeans and an excessive amount of eyeliner, smeared from the night’s events.  
  
“Picked up some take out for the night,” Daryl smirked.  He looked back at the young man and scoffed, “least for the next fifteen minutes.”  
  
“Okay,” Rick shrugged.  “Well you kids have fun,” he said as he tried to enter his apartment, holding the basket and opening the door a slightly tricky thing to do.  Daryl quickly stepped up to Rick’s door and opened it for him, holding said door wide open so Rick could step inside.  Daryl leered at Rick the whole time with what could only be described as a Cheshire Cat grin.  
  
Rick closed his front door behind him quickly and made his way to his bedroom to put his clothing away.  He could hear the footsteps of the two men in the apartment next to him through the extremely thin walls.  
  
They really were _very_ thin.  
  
It was like being back home, and he could hear everything in his older brother’s room that happened to be situated right next to his own.  All that had separated him from his sibling had been two pieces of drywall and some two by fours at large intervals.  
  
The same could be said for the space between the apartment units as well.  
  
Rick could make out the footsteps each man took as it echoed through the flimsy floorboards of both units.  
  
He could almost discern the muffled words of one of the men on the other side.  That had to be Daryl’s guest as the tone was lighter and softer.  
  
However, Rick caught Daryl’s yell of, “take a goddamned shower!  And use the soap tha’s in there.  Lot’s of it!”  
  
Quite clearly as a matter of fact.  
  
He waited for the tell-tale noise the faucet made being turned on.  First there was the loud bellow the empty pipe made before the sound was replaced by the water as it flowed through the pipes.  
  
He was really starting to hate that sound.  
  
Rick relaxed back on his bed, wondering what exactly he would be hearing.  
  
The water stopped, followed by more muffled talking by the young man.  His voice didn’t carry very well.  Daryl barked, “git on the bed!”  
  
Daryl’s voice, however, carried unquestionably _perfectly._  
  
Rick felt the moment the young man had jumped on the bed, the bed frame hitting the wall, making his own wall, and subsequently his own headboard, shake as well.  
  
There was another jolt, Rick presuming that was the moment Daryl too, had jumped on the bed.  
  
And then it started.  
  
It was a dull, thumping noise, as the bed rocked against the wall, the relentless beat sending a shockwave which caused the bedside table to the left of him to vibrate.  
  
Had there been a glass of water atop it, it would have no doubt spilled its very contents.  
  
Daryl’s loud obscenities almost, but not quite, drowned out the other man’s whimpers and cries which turned to pleas, begging Daryl to go harder, go faster.  
  
Begging him to _hurt_ him.  
  
As the relentless banging against the walls sped up, the sounds became more guttural, only grunting and some heavy breathing could be made out at this point.  
  
And then the banging stopped and Rick could hear Daryl give one final roar.  
  
Both men had come to completion.  
  
Or at least Daryl had.  
  
Rick listened attentively as he heard the other man mumbling something and Daryl’s snarled return, “get the fuck outta hear.  We’re done!”  
  
“Fuck you!” came the angry scream from the other man, Rick making note that that had been the first time he had heard the younger man quite clearly.  
  
There were angry footsteps and the slamming of Daryl’s front door, the steps now becoming more distant as he made his way down the hallway to the elevator.  
  
Rick leaned back against his headboard, sighing as he tried to forget what events had just transpired in the unit next to him.  
  
He wasn’t a virgin, not by a long shot.   
  
Well, that wasn’t _exactly_ true.  
  
He wasn’t a virgin as far as women were concerned.  
  
There had been a girl in his second year of college.  It had been awkward, but they had stayed together for a few months before they both called the relationship off.  
  
But as far as men went, except for some fooling around with his best friend from childhood, Shane, he was a virgin.  
  
A babe in the woods.  
  
He couldn’t fool himself.  He could not just laugh at everything that had just taken place.  
  
It made Rick feel things.  
  
Things he would have to confront about himself.  
  
And about his new neighbor.  
  
Rick was suddenly jarred from his thoughts with the shrill ringing of his cell phone, so very loud in the stillness that was his bedroom.  
  
The caller I.D. listed a phone number he had never seen before.  
  
“Hello?” Rick answered curiously.  
  
“You hear all that?” came the low, gravelly voice.  
  
 _Daryl._  
  
“How…how’d you get my number?” Rick stammered.  
  
“Philip don’t know the meanin’ of the word ‘privacy.’  He done give it to me today when I gave ’im the bullshit excuse that I needed to call you ‘bout something,” Daryl scoffed.  “Guess it ain’t bullshit if I did call ya, now is it?”  
  
An image of his sleazy landlord giving Rick’s phone number to any person on the street, which included but not limited to Scientologists and Latter Day Saints, along with writing his number on the dirty walls of truck stop bathrooms, floated through his mind briefly.  
  
“You hear all that?” Daryl asked once again, this time more insistently.  
  
Rick could actually hear the smirk in the man’s voice.  
  
“Hard not to,” Rick answered back, laying back on the bed, staring at his dirty ceiling while running his hand along his shirt.  
  
“You on the bed?” Daryl asked more quietly, a slow, tempting drawl now making its appearance.  
  
“Um yeah,” Rick whispered nervously.  
  
“Me too,” Daryl said.  “Bed’s just on the other side of your wall.”  
  
“I know,” Rick winced.  
  
“Bet you do,” Daryl chuckled low before the pitch of his voice dropped even lower.  “Could you feel it?  When I was fuckin’ him?”  
  
“I should,” Rick swallowed.  “I should hang up now.”  
  
Rick pushed END CALL.  
  
He looked at the phone before the shrill ring came over the quiet of the room once again.  Warily he picked the device up and answered it.  
  
“That ain’t nice,” Daryl said reproachfully.  “Now I asked a question.  Could you feel it when I was fucking him?” Daryl asked, pronouncing each word clearly.  
  
“Yes,” Rick sighed shyly.  
  
“Good,” Daryl purred.  “It were all for you.”  
  
“He your boyfriend?” Rick asked.  
  
“That fuckin’ cock slut?” Daryl scoffed.  “He’s prolly already on his way back to the club.  Gonna get fucked a few more times ‘fore the night is over.”  
  
“You do that,” Rick swallowed.  “You do that often?  Pick up up guys at the club?”  
  
“Naw.  Told you that was all for you,” Daryl said, his normally abrasive voice turning downright flirtatious.  
  
“Me?” Rick whispered.  
  
And before he knew it, he was ending the call once again.  
  
Rick knew he was in way over his head.  
  
He wasn’t equipped to deal with someone like Daryl.  
  
The phone rang again.  
  
First ring.  
  
He would _not_ answer it.  
  
Second ring.  
  
He would _most_ certainly not answer it.  
  
Third ring.  
  
And he was picking up the phone and accepting the call.  
  
“Daryl?” Rick sighed.  “You shouldn’t be callin’ me.”  
  
“Then why you keep answerin?’” Daryl asked, sounding immensely proud of himself.    
  
The bastard.  
  
“I was thinkin’ of you the whole time I was fuckin’ him,” Daryl continued, his voice drawing Rick in one more time.  “Made him take a shower.  Made him wash with that soap of yours.  Only way I could fuck him really.  But he weren’t you.  He was a used up whore…”  
  
Rick hung up the phone and threw it away from him on the bed.  
  
He watched as the phone just sat there, not ringing its shrill siren call.  
  
He could hear Daryl’s distinctive chuckle on the other side of the wall.  “Night Rick.  Sweet dreams.”  
  
Rick slumped against the headboard, not moving, not making a sound.  
  
He would stay that way for the next hour before he fell into a fitful sleep.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just trust me on this story.
> 
> Creepy Daryl is really creepy but it'll all be okay. ;P
> 
> Of course, everyone's definition of 'okay' is slightly different...


	4. Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I haven't lost anyone to creepy Daryl. :)
> 
> He's pushing it in this one...

 

 

Rick's POV

 

 

  
  
  
  
Passing over the cracked concrete in the apartment building’s courtyard, with its run-down patio furniture and scattered, neglected juniper bushes, Rick did not have to wonder why none of the residents wanted to take advantage of the communal patio.  
  
Entering the lobby, he sprinted through the lounge area, strewed uninvitingly with its threadbare seating and bare, wood flooring, and made his way quickly to the lone elevator.  
  
Having just come from the university and a long day of classes, work, and another lecture from one of his advisors about his thesis proposal, Rick just wanted nothing more than to get into his apartment and pass out on his bed.  
  
The elevator pinged as it opened its doors rather slowly.  Most elevators either had clean stainless steel surfaces or warm wood paneling.  This deathtrap, and he seriously _did_ wonder about the safety of the accursed thing, had neither.  It was lined in the most garish, pistachio formica paneling he had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon and the linoleum flooring was cracked and pulling up in the corners.  
  
There were yellowing spots in several places.  
  
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what caused _those_ spots as the inside of the cubicle smelled like a urinal.  
  
Rick pushed the button for his floor when someone slid their hand between the doors to stop it.  As it was the polite thing to do, and as the elevator took quite a long time in its usual journey, Rick pushed the button to open the doors.  
  
When the doors slid open, there stood Daryl.  
  
He wished he had just let the doors close on him.  
  
“Rick,” Daryl smiled.  “Fancy meetin’ you here.”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick scoffed.  “Been waitin’ long for me?”  
  
“You are a very predictable young man, Mr Grimes,” Daryl said as eloquently as he could muster, that damned smirk on his face, as he entered the elevator, pushing the button for their floor.  
  
Daryl leaned against one side of the elevator, his eyes never leaving Rick the whole time.  
  
“What?!” Rick said, exasperated by Daryl’s intense staring.  
  
Looking at the floor indicator light, he realized they still had five floors to go.  
  
“You eat or drink somethin’ on the way here?” Daryl asked.  
  
“One of them Frappes…from Starbucks,” Rick said.  “Why?”  
  
“Got some kinda,” Daryl said as he pointed to Rick.  “Right here in the corner,” he said as he pointed to the side of his own mouth.  
  
“Oh!” Rick said as he went to wipe the corner of his mouth as Daryl had indicated.    
  
No doubt whipped cream.    
  
The barista had put the horrid stuff on there despite his protests.  
  
“Wait,” Daryl said as he moved quickly forward.  
  
Daryl pushed the STOP button, which brought the elevator to a sudden halt, only one floor away from their own stop.  
  
As the older man advanced on him, Rick wondered if this was the part where his creepy neighbor would take the knife he had hidden somewhere on him and stabbed him repeatedly, leaving Rick in a puddle of his own blood to be discovered by one of the other tenants.  
  
Instead Daryl leaned forward and held Rick’s chin tightly, bring his thumb up to wipe the cream away from the corner of his lips.  Daryl then brought his thumb to his own lips, licking the cream off with one swipe of his tongue.  
  
“’S gone now,” Daryl said.  
  
Rick let the breath he had been holding in out, hoping that _now_ his neighbor would start the elevator up again so they could finish their ascent.  
  
Instead Daryl leaned in yet again, more intimately this time, grabbing Rick’s chin in the same manner as before.  
  
The other man was so close now, Rick could actually make out the brand of cigarettes he smoked.  
  
Daryl brought his lips to him, running his tongue ever so slowly along Rick’s upper lip.  He hadn’t merely swiped at it quickly, but stroked it lazily, _leisurely_.  When he had thoroughly mapped out every part of his upper lip, Daryl did the same to the bottom lip, going even more slowly if that were even possible.  
  
When Daryl finished, he straightened himself up, licking his lips while gazing intently at Rick.  
  
Gulping audibly, Rick stared back at Daryl, hoping the other man could not hear his very loud heart beating in his chest.  
  
He was almost _willing_ the STOP button to be pressed so the small box containing both men, the box that was quickly running out of air, or at least that was what it felt like to Rick, would continue on its journey upward so he could get off the damn thing and hide in his apartment for the rest of his life.  
  
Daryl, without having taken his eyes off Rick, pushed the button to resume the ascent.  
  
“Why?” Rick stuttered.  
  
“Wanted to taste you,” Daryl drawled, his easy, come-hither voice drawing Rick further in.  
  
Rick looked to the side, trying to hide his face as he asked, “What’d I taste like?”  
  
“Sweet,” Daryl rasped, a wicked smile on his face that became more attentive.  “Soft.”  
  
“Soft?” Rick scoffed.  “You can’t taste _soft_.”  
  
Daryl pushed himself once more into Rick’s space.  “You _can_ cuz I jus’ did,” he said, as the elevator pinged for their floor, the doors opening so very slowly.  Daryl made his way out the double doors, holding them open for Rick.  “Like I knew they would be,” Daryl whispered into Rick’s ear as the younger man passed by.  
  
Rick sprinted out of the elevator and down the hallway, making it to his door, all the while hearing Daryl’s low chuckle behind him.  He opened the door and slammed it, locking it quickly while resting his back against the closed door.  
  
The silence of the apartment, once his heart had stopped beating so loudly in the enclosed space, was broken when he heard a single chime coming from his cell phone alerting him to a text.  
  
Rick clicked on the message.  The phone number had been the same as two nights ago.  
  
MEET ME AT WALKERS TONIGHT AT 11.  DARYL.  
  
Rick slid down the door, slumping onto the floor.  
  
He should _not_ go.  
  
He would _not_ go.  
  
His mind made up, he would ignore the text and pass out on his bed, putting an end to his rather long day.  
  
Getting up from his slumped position on the floor, Rick quickly made his way into the bedroom.  
  
He wasn’t quite sure what he could wear to a club like Walker’s, having never been there before, but he had to find _something_ so he could meet Daryl at eleven.  
  
He had a feeling Mr. Dixon would not appreciate him being late.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, one more to go.
> 
> You can pretty much guess which one that'll be and what that will entail.
> 
> Also, just caught 'Welcome to Me,' with Kristen Wiig. It was...different. At times, it was hard to watch, at others, it was downright funny. Although I can say, this is one of those movies I find hard recommending, yet wanting to recommend it all the same.


	5. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the final chapter.
> 
> Sorry about the delay. RL came in and just, yeah, you know.
> 
> Anywho, after this, I will be following up with a new chapter on my anmesia!Rick fic. then a few days later will be a new chapter in my 'There's Somethang about Rick' fic.

 

  
Rick's POV

 

  
  
Rick had heard about the Atlanta underground club scene, the nightclubs that made the NFT list, NFT standing for ‘Not for tourists.’  
  
There was the Devil’s Playground, which consisted of upside down crucifixes and demon baby dolls strewn about.  People talked about how only the _true_ hard core frequented that establishment but the only thing that was _‘true’_ about it was that it was a place only frequented by the posers.  
  
There was also Cherry 2000, with its glitzy neon lighting and clean surfaces, that was far too mainstream for those aforementioned hard core club goers.  
  
And then there was Walkers.  
  
The club was housed in the basement of a run down warehouse, the main level some kind of automotive repair shop.  
  
Walkers had the dystopian feel down _cold._   It looked like something out of a post apocalyptic movie, with its dirty walls and unkempt and decrepit appearance.  
  
It was a very popular club and where only the most devoted to the night time scene dwelled.  
  
Rick made his way to the front entrance, a long line of people, their backs to the wall while conversing eagerly with each other, waiting for their chance to go in.  He wondered for the umpteenth time that night if he looked like he belonged.  His best friend, Michonne, had assured him the low slung cargo pants, tight black tee-shirt and combat boots would make him fit right in.  
  
Looking around him, he would have to admit to her at some point later that she had indeed, been right.  
  
He fingered the leather choker Michonne had insisted he wear and made his way to the bouncer, who happened to be letting people in, only a small number at a time.  
  
“Um, hi,” Rick said to the large beefy man, a ginger fellow who looked more at home as a drill sergeant than he did as a doorman at the nightclub.    
  
“Backa the line,” the surly man barked.  
  
“Daryl…um…Daryl told me,” Rick stuttered.  
  
What the hell was he doing here?

He really should be home, sleeping.  
  
“Daryl?” the man said as he looked up suddenly.  “Why didn’t ya say so,” he huffed as he stepped aside and let Rick in.  
  
“Thank you,” Rick said.  
  
“Name’s Abraham,” he barked again as he turned to a group of young men who started getting into a fight.  “Aw, fuck this.”  
  
Rick ambled into the club, with its low lighting and its industrial feel, making his way through the mass of bodies as they made their connections, drank water-downed beer and listened and danced to the music of one of the many indie bands in Atlanta trying hard to make a name for themselves.  
  
The band playing tonight happened to be one that was influenced by the industrial metal music genre of the nineties, with its dark tones and haunting lyrics, since they were playing a Nine Inch Nails song, and were doing rather remarkably well at that.  
  
 _I can’t remember how this got started,_  
 _But I can tell you exactly how it will end._  
  
Listening to the foretelling lyrics of the song, Rick had to laugh at how relevant those words were at this precise moment in time.  
  
Looking up into the rafters, Rick caught sight of that devilish smile, the one that could only belong to a man like his next door neighbor, Daryl Dixon.  
  
He was leaning against the railings of the catwalk, looking down at Rick with what could only be described as a self-satisfied smirk, the asshole having known full well that Rick would be at the club at eleven.  
  
The smile was soon replaced by a different expression, one that positively _screamed_ victory.  
  
It was the kind of expression a predator usually had for its prey, especially when it had the misfortune of having gotten caught in its snare.  
  
It said ‘I won and now I’m coming in for the kill.’  
  
When Rick looked back up, Daryl was gone.  Looking around, he couldn’t seem to spot his strange neighbor anywhere in the crowd.  
  
“Hey beautiful, wanna dance?” a young man asked as he walked up to Rick, interrupting him in his search for Daryl.  
  
The hipster, with his snug button up shirt and skinny jeans, was a tall, handsome man, about the same age as himself.  
  
“I’m here with someone,” Rick yelled back so he could be heard.  
  
“Are they invisible?” the man chuckled good-naturedly.  “Gareth,” he said as he pointed to himself as a way of greeting.  “Come on,” he said as he grabbed Rick’s hand and led him to the dance floor.  
  
“I shouldn’t,” Rick shrugged, trying to step away from the forward man.  As he did so, he bumped into someone else behind him, who with one arm grabbed him around his chest and brought him snug against his own chest.  
  
“Fuck off Gareth!” Daryl growled behind Rick, his neighbor removing his arm and putting both hands on Rick’s hips territorially.  
  
“Hey Dixon!” Gareth said as he raised his hands and stepped back.  “Sorry, no harm here.  Maybe you should keep a closer eye on the kid though,” the man snickered.  
  
Daryl and Rick watched as the young man turned around, disappearing into the crowd.  
  
“You came,” Daryl said into Rick’s ear, then spun him around.  
  
“Yeah, you know, had nothin’ better to do than, you know, _sleep_ ,” Rick said harshly.  
  
Daryl smirked down at Rick before pushing him into the crowd.  “Le’s dance.”  
  
“Oh God, I hate dancin,’” Rick bemoaned.  
  
Another Nine Inch Nails song started as he faced Daryl on the floor.  
  
It wasn’t a fast paced song, the kind where people danced as frantically as they could to keep up, yet it wasn’t exactly a slow ballad that you could dance 'cheek to cheek' to either.  It had a pulsing beat and a solid rhythm.  
  
It was, however, the kind of song that allowed Daryl to put his hand on the small of Rick’s back while he leaned back ever so slightly so their hips could come into contact with each other.  As they swayed back and forth to the beat, Daryl ground his groin insistently against Rick’s, thereby causing a maddening friction.  
  
Daryl pushed Rick in closer to him, their chests now making contact, the older man leaning in and whispering into Rick’s ear.  “Just close your eyes.  _Feel_ the music.”  
  
Rick, because for some strange reason even unknown to himself, decided to trust Daryl, so he closed his eyes.  
  
Daryl was right.  
  
He _could_ feel the music.  
  
Rick leaned his head back slightly while letting the music run through his body, feeling the strong beat as it made its way through his veins as if it was his life blood, ending at his heart, that seemed to be beating twice as fast to the relentless rhythm.  
  
“See,” Daryl chuckled as he leaned in once more to Rick’s ear, “you’re dancin.’”  
  
Rick opened his eyes, his gaze completely transfixed on the man before him, his knees bending in time with Daryl’s as they were inch for inch, plastered together in time with the music.  
  
“Where’d you get that?” Daryl asked rapturously as he fingered the choker around Rick’s neck.  
  
“Best friend, she dressed me,” Rick chuckled.  
  
“She did good,” Daryl said as he swept his hungry gaze up and down Rick’s body.  
  
He could feel Daryl’s sweat soaked shirt through his own now saturated shirt.  
  
“’S really hot in here,” Rick croaked.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl snarled ravenously as he feasted his eyes on Rick intently.  “Want you all sweaty.  So I can lick every inch of ya.”  
  
And just like that, it seemed as if the music was some _thing_ far off in the distance, as were all the people around him.  As if they were both underwater.  
  
Or everyone else was.  
  
Daryl grabbed Rick’s face abruptly and started to run his tongue against his lips, only it was different from the way he had done it before, in the elevator.  
  
This was more forceful, demanding.  
  
Gone was the gentle ministration that had slowly mapped out his lips.  Daryl’s tongue was now requesting entry into his mouth, diving head on and delving into every corner it could find.  
  
Daryl was not merely kissing him.  
  
He was _claiming_ him.  
  
Rick had been able to feel the music before.  
  
Now he could feel the very thing that made Daryl, well, Daryl, as it flowed through the older man and touched Rick.  
  
Daryl broke off.  “Need to go somewhere else… _now_!” Daryl growled, a manic look in his eyes.  “’S not enough,” the man said as he ran his hand through his damp hair, acting for all the world as a caged animal.  
  
And with that Daryl grabbed Rick’s hand, pulling him through the massive crowd of writhing bodies and off the dance floor, toward an exit door.  
  
Along the way, they passed a long hallway, faint moans and grunts emanating from within.  
  
Rick had heard about the long hallway at Walkers.  
  
Or as most people called it, the _back room_.  
  
“You ain’t takin’ me in there,” Rick said adamantly as he stopped Daryl’s forward progression.  “I ain’t gonna lose, ya know…in _there_.”  
  
“The back room?!” Daryl scoffed angrily.  “You think I’d take you… _in there_?!  Fuck no!  Come on.”  
  
They passed through an exit door, which instead of leading them to the outside and the alleyway, led to another room where only a freight elevator lay in wait.  
  
Daryl took out a ring of keys and started the elevator, the clanging metal of the industrial lift letting them know it was making its way down, where it stopped at their floor, the older man lifting the gate.  “Get in.”  
  
“Are we allowed?” Rick started.  
  
“Got the keys, don’t I?” Daryl said as he raised said keys.  
  
Rick took a moment to wonder if Daryl stole the keys off some poor maintenance man that happened to run the warehouse (and for one brief moment, Rick had the disturbing image of a dead janitor, lying in a pool of his own blood, his keys missing) but he didn’t have time to voice his concern when his neighbor pushed him into the lift, closed the gate, pressed the large yellow button, the elevator making that whirring sound as it escalated, and pushed Rick against the wall.    
  
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” Daryl moaned as he ground his hips into Rick’s once again.  “Fuck, been thinking ‘bout nothing else,” he said as he claimed Rick’s mouth again.  
  
The elevator stopped abruptly, a motion that caused both men to lose their footing slightly.  Sliding the gate up, Rick followed Daryl out of the lift and into a small hallway, two large industrial sliding doors in front of them.  
  
“Which floor is this?” Rick asked, as he watched Daryl move toward the sliding door on the right.  
  
“There’s the basement, with the club.  The main floor, with the auto shop.  This ’s the top floor,” Daryl said as he slid the door open with a wide sweep of his arm.  Daryl grabbed Rick by the front of his shirt and pulled him inside the cavernous room.  He placed his hands on the younger man’s hips and continued kissing him, lifting Rick’s shirt from the bottom hem and pulling it up and off him.  
  
Rick looked around the room.  There were two long, bare walls on each side, some furniture scattered about, and a row of floor to ceiling windows at the end.  In the middle of the room, was a very large bed.  
  
Daryl looked over at what Rick was staring at.  “The angle of the windows to the street…ya can’t see in the windows.  Don’t worry,” Daryl assured as he ran his knuckles tenderly along one of his cheeks.  
  
The tender moment was short lived however as the older man pushed Rick against one of the walls and starting from his collarbone, made his way down Rick’s chest, his tongue making good on that promise to lick every inch of him.  
  
“Fuck you taste so damn _good_ ,” Daryl moaned as he captured a nipple.  “So sweet.  Wanna eat you right fuckin’ here.”  
  
Before Daryl could continue devouring him whole, he pulled his own shirt off.  Standing before Rick watchfully, his naked, heaving chest on display, he saw the exact moment the urgency left Daryl’s face and he became almost…  
  
Well, almost _insecure_.  
  
Gone was the cocksure arrogance from before.

And then the caged animal was back.  
  
“You know how much I been wantin’ this?!”  Daryl yelled at Rick in frustration.  “Couldn’t fuckin’ _think_.  Couldn’t fuckin’… _Fuck!_ ” the older man barked as he turned away, his scarred back, adorned with two demon tattoos, now on display for Rick.  
  
“Daryl?” Rick asked, as he put one hand on Daryl’s shoulder.  
  
“Just say you want it too,” Daryl said as he turned around quickly and held onto Rick’s upper arms urgently, a beseeching look on his face.  
  
Rick wondered if he said he didn’t, would Daryl take ‘no’ for an answer.  
  
But Rick would never find out, because he _did_ want it.

He wanted it just as much as Daryl did.  
  
And Daryl, the fucker, knew that Rick did too.  
  
“I do,” Rick whispered.  “I want it, Daryl.  Whatever you’re gonna…”  
  
But Rick didn’t get to finish what he was going to say as Daryl pounced on him once again, leading him to the enormous bed, which upon closer inspection, wasn’t exactly in the middle of the room, but closer to the bank of windows.  
  
“No turnin’ back now,” Daryl said with a stern face, as he pushed Rick to sit on the end of the bed.  
  
Daryl, all the while his gaze fixed on Rick, unzipped his jeans, his hard cock springing forth from its confines.  
  
“You ever blow anybody?” Daryl asked as he lazily stroked his member, his eyes now at half mast.  
  
“My best friend…Shane…taught me how in high school,” Rick swallowed as he saw the thickness of Daryl’s member.  
  
“Bet he fucking did,” Daryl scoffed.  “Bet he told you he was doing you a favor the whole time too.”  
  
Remembering back to that hot summer night, he had to admit that Daryl was right.  
  
Shane _had_ made it seem like he was doing him a favor, better that he learned how to give a proper blowjob using a friend, not a complete stranger.  
  
“He ever do anything else?” Daryl groused.  
  
“No,” Rick nodded.  “Jus’ hand jobs and blow jobs and some kissing…”  
  
“No more talkin’ ‘bout the past,” Daryl muttered as he cut Rick off.  “Just lick it,” he purred as he held his hard cock in Rick’s face, tucking a few stray curls lovingly behind Rick’s ear with his other hand.  
  
Rick wrapped his lips around the hard shaft.  “Fuck tha’s pretty,” Daryl moaned as he looked down at the younger man fondly.  
  
Remembering that first time back in that one summer with Shane, he did what his best friend at the time had instructed him to do.  To treat it like the popsicle he had eaten earlier that day (and no doubt, probably the reason Shane had decided to teach him how to blow a guy that night).  
  
And with that, Rick started licking around the shaft, and over the head, over and under and around, all the while as slowly, as leisurely as possible, as if he had all the time in the world.  
  
“Oh fuck me,” Daryl moaned again, his eyes closed in bliss, as he ran his hand through Rick’s curls.  
  
Rick stopped and looked up, licking his lips.  “Thought I was the one gettin’ fucked?” he said with a wide smile on his face before taking Daryl’s cock into his mouth again.  
  
“Flippant fuck,” Daryl muttered, a small smile gracing his face as well.  He gasped as Rick took him in all the way to the root.  
  
“You’re,” Daryl growled as he lifted Rick’s head off his swollen cock.  “We gotta stop.  ‘M too close to comin.’”  
  
Daryl bent over to the bedside table and grabbed something out of the drawer, a condom and a tube of…  
  
Oh God, this was really happening.  
  
Daryl spread a small amount of lube on his fingers, rubbing them together.  “Take off your jeans…slow like.”  
  
Rick unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his thighs, doing the same with his briefs.  
  
He now stood before Daryl completely naked.  
  
Then again, based on how well his neighbor had been able to read him, Rick was pretty sure that he had been completely naked in front of Daryl the whole damn time.  
  
“So pretty,” Daryl mused as he scanned Rick’s body from top to bottom.  “Lay on the bed, face down,” he said as Rick complied, Daryl following close behind him.  
  
Daryl brought his finger to Rick’s entrance, the younger man jumping slightly at the contact of the cool lubricant and the intrusion of the finger.  
  
“Sssh,” Daryl murmured as he ran his other fingers down Rick’s spine.  “Relax Rick.  Just feel it.  Like the music.”  
  
Daryl plunged his finger into his entrance, Rick squirming as the digit found its way inside him.  
  
Then ever so slowly, the finger was removed.    
  
He suddenly found himself wanting it back in there and before he could voice that out loud, the finger was back, plunging in, then out, in and out, accelerating as it did so.  “Now here’s two,” Daryl whispered.  
  
Rick felt as his opening was slowly being stretched open, ever so gently, despite Daryl being more and more insistent each time.  
  
At one point, Daryl had scraped his finger along a bundle of nerves that made Rick shudder, before he felt himself tingling all over.  
  
“Oh you like that?” Daryl purred.  “Ole Shane never found _that_ spot, huh?”  
  
“Do…do that again…please,” Rick gasped.  
  
“So polite,” Daryl hummed, as he plunged three fingers inside of Rick, stretching him even further, hitting that magical spot over and over again.  
  
“God that feels so…so _good_ ,” Rick moaned, writhing and humping the bed.  
  
Daryl pulled his fingers out of Rick, the younger man whining as he did so.  “Turn over.  Wanna see you,” Daryl said.  
  
Rick turned over and caught sight of Daryl’s hungry gaze as it was trained on him.  “For your first time, you should…you should ride me.”  
  
Rick watched as Daryl sat against the headboard, his hard cock, encased in a condom, protruding out.  
  
His huge _hard_ cock.  
  
Three fingers was one thing, but _that_ monster was going to hurt him.  
  
Noticing the look on Rick’s face, Daryl brought Rick closer to him.  “Don’t worry.  This ’s why I wanna do it this way.  It’ll hurt at first, then you’ll get used to it.  Then you’ll never want it out of you,” Daryl murmured.  
  
“Now, I’ll guide you,” Daryl said as he had Rick sit above him.  He kissed Rick full on the mouth when he was in position over Daryl’s cock, and slowly, so, so slowly, his member entered him as the older man pushed him down onto it, the kissing no doubt acting as a distraction.  
  
When Rick was fully seated, he panted out, “too much.  ’S too much.”  
  
“Sssh,” Daryl soothed.  “You’re doing so good.”  
  
Rick whimpered as he moved his hips in a circular motion, Daryl whimpering along with him.  
  
It was painful.  
  
It hurt like a fucking son of a bitch.  
  
But then when he swayed in any direction, Daryl’s cock, which was fully seated within him and taking up every available space, would hit that spot, and it lit up every nerve in his body.  
  
And then the hurt and the pain would subside and it felt so good.  
  
So damn good.  
  
His body was now fully one with Daryl’s and he could feel the other man, and he could feel himself.  
  
He could feel everything.  
  
It was all lit up and awake and _screaming_ at him.  
  
Rick swayed slowly at first, then pick up the pace, lifting himself just a bit and then crashing down, over and over again, impaling himself repeatedly on Daryl’s hard cock.    
  
He wasn’t sure if he was gasping or moaning or c _rying_ for that matter.  
  
“I feel…oh God!  ’M so full,” Rick sobbed brokenly.  
  
“God, you’re so…fuck!” Daryl yelled out.  “Fuckin’ beautiful!”  
  
Rick could feel the bruises that would no doubt form in the morning from where Daryl was holding onto his hips so tightly while lifting him up and forcing him back down on his cock.  
  
And then, a current ran through his body and he _came_.  Rick came so violently, so intensely, he could feel his body as it reveled in its orgasm, as it literally _tore_ through his body, making him shiver uncontrollably.  
  
Rick felt warm hands on his body as Daryl lifted him off of his cock and slammed him down onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress forcefully, but Rick not caring in the slightest.  
  
He was on a high he wasn’t sure _when_ he would come down from, nor that he ever wanted to.  
  
Daryl was grunting savagely as he plunged his cock in and out of him, the older man holding him down by his shoulders as he fucked Rick wildly.  
  
“That was…the fucking…sexiest… _hottest_ …thing…I ever…saw!” Daryl grunted and groaned as he continued to fuck Rick before he too came with a loud shout, screaming Rick’s name to the rafters.  
  
“Oh God,” Daryl panted, “I…fuck!  You’re gonna be the…death of me,” he gasped as he took in large mouthfuls of air.  
  
After gingerly pulling himself out of Rick, the younger man noticing his absence quickly, Daryl expelled one last breath of air before collapsing down next to him.  
  
Both men contemplated the ceiling above them before Rick broke the silence.  “Is it always like that?  I mean…fuck!” he exclaimed as he chuckled, realizing he had just repeated what Daryl had said.  
  
“No,” Daryl shrugged, “well it hasn’t been for me in…I dunno… _ever_.”  Daryl turned over and rubbed his sweaty forehead against Rick’s upper arm.  “Mus’ be jus’ you.”  
  
“What’d it feel like...when I came?” Rick asked as he faced Daryl.  
  
“Physically?  Like a vice grip on my pecker,” Daryl said as he contemplated the ceiling once again.  “But it were more ’n that.  It felt like…like you were pulling me in.  Like I was being drawn into you,” he finished as he smiled at Rick.  
  
“Huh,” Rick said thoughtfully before he made his way up and out of the bed, walking over to the large bank of windows, completely naked of course.  
  
Then again, he would have to get used to being that way in front of his neighbor.  
  
Looking out of the large multi-paned window, down at the street below, Rick felt that this was the first time he could truly take a deep breath, the confines of the small apartment left far behind, as well as the life he currently led at the university, full of long hours of lab work and classes.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want his life at the university, he just needed to be able to step away from it when he came home, and his small apartment did _not_ afford him that luxury.  That, and this was the first time in a very, very long time he hadn't felt quite so alone.

“I like it here,” Rick said wistfully as he continued to stare out the window, Daryl walking up behind him and wrapping him up in his arms.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said as he rained small kisses upon Rick’s bare shoulder.  “We could live here together.  ’S my place anyway,” the older man said, never stopping in his ministrations.  
  
“What?!” Rick exclaimed as he turned around.  “What about the other…”  
  
“I live here with my brother, Merle.  He’s a sorry sumabitch.  We own the car repair shop on the main floor.  Sometimes I gotta get away from Merle and his _bullshit_ and havin’ our own separate units up here just _ain’t_ enough some times.  I gotta get outta the whole building altogether,” Daryl explained, a look of regret and disappointment on his face every time he mentioned the name ‘Merle.’  “I rent that piece a shit place in that mausoleum you call home.  Was coming back here when I got word Merle were in prison again.  Typical bullshit,” he scoffed.  “Then I saw you, so I sorta stayed at that damn _hell_ hole.”  
  
“This is yours.  All yours,” Rick said as he held his arms out to his sides.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl nodded.  
  
“And you want me to live here, with you?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah, said as much,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“Don’t think I could afford even _half_ the rent on a place like this,” Rick said as he looked around.  
  
“Don’t want your money,” Daryl chuckled as he brought Rick in closer.  “You could make it up to me in other ways,” he said as he nuzzled into Rick’s neck.  
  
“And if I said ‘no?’” Rick asked, one eyebrow raised.  
  
“Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer very well,” Daryl murmured.   
  
“Thought so,” Rick sighed as he leaned back against the window and let Daryl kiss his collarbone, the older man fingering his choker.  “When can I move in?”  
  
“After you take a shower,” Daryl said and kissed along Rick’s neck, “with me,” and along his ear, “in the morning.  That fucking shower’s bigger than your whole damn apartment.”  
  
Rick leaned his head back as Daryl continued to kiss him, the older man raising Rick’s arms and holding them up against the window, almost as if in a gesture of surrender.  
  
Rick had a new lover.  
  
And he apparently had a new home.  
  
Because Daryl wanted him to move in with him.  
  
And Rick knew Daryl wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.  
  
Then again, Rick didn’t want to say ‘no’ anyway.  
  
And he knew that Daryl _knew_ he didn’t want to.  
  
The fucker.  
  
  
  
  
The End  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song with the lyrics, 'I can't remember how this got started...' was from NIN's "Every Day is Exactly the Same." And the song the boys were dancing to was NIN's "The Hand That Feeds."
> 
> Also, this is a done fic. Completed.
> 
> However, I might revisit it with a Merle/Daryl/Rick one-shot and/or Shane/Daryl/Rick one-shot.
> 
> Just so you know.
> 
> Or maybe just the shower scene the next morning when Rick takes a gander at those bruises on his hips. ;P
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting and any kudos you threw this writer's way.
> 
> If you are interested in visiting these boys again, let me know. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> As in, I need to know if I should continue onto the next 4 chapters or not because this might be too creepy or if I need better tags or warnings or whatnot.


End file.
